After she scribbles down something on one of the papers, Dr. Pareira sits back in the chair and dons a pair of blue disposable gloves. She twists the chair around with her legs to face Sira more fully. “Are you from one of the settlements?”
“N...” They pause. “...I’m not sure.”
“Amnesia,” Karim says from his spot at the door. “It might be worth doing what you can to check for a head injury.”
Dr. Pareira’s brows shoot up. “Amnesia? How bad?”
"Pretty bad, I think," they reply, reaching up to rub at their aching neck, but the pressure only triggers more pain. They wince. "I'm not even sure if Sira's my name. It's just what I remember when I’m asked and...that name is all I can remember.”
“And how long have you been feeling this way? A few hours? Days?”
Sira glances at Karim, whose face now lacks any humor. Even they haven’t told him about where they came from yet. The prospect of immunity has been too distracting to everyone. If this is supposed to be low-key, the doctor might not need to know that detail.
“Several hours, at least,” they decide to say.
The doctor purses her lips, then stands from her seat as she finishes adjusting her gloves. “Hold still so that I can have a look at you.”
Sira goes rigid as Dr. Pareira closes the distance between them. She places one gloved hand on Sira's shoulder and the other raises to their chin. Once the glove's smooth material comes in contact with Sira's skin, something in their brain grinds to a halt.
Bad.
Iciness washes over them and their heart starts to pound in their chest. They can’t protest as the doctor lifts their chin and angles their head upward, tilts their head in one direction, and then the other. Sira lets their eyes go unfocused instead of making any effort to look away.
“Pupils aren’t dilated any more than they should be and your speech seems normal,” she says, finally letting go of Sira’s chin and taking a step back. “But I did notice you keeping a hand on the wall while walking in here, which isn’t a good sign. Have you been feeling dizzy?”
Sira shifts their head to face forward again, but the movement is slow and mechanical. It feels like an agonizing effort, but this time, it’s due to something other than weakness. The cold sensation hasn’t gone away and their heart still beats too fast.
Still, they manage to wet their lips and make words come out, but stilted and jittery. The tightness of their jaw and throat doesn't help. "...not leaning on the wall because of that. Everything just hurts. And feeling really tired, like I can barely hold myself up." They pause to take in a deep breath, filling their lungs with the stagnant air in the room - not comforting, but it loosens things up a bit. "A little dizzy, but that only started a bit ago, not when I first woke up. I think. Haven't gotten to rest since then."
Dr. Pareira purses her lips. “’First woke up’? Do you mean this morning, or..?”
This again. "I'm not sure how much I should say, but it didn't seem like I'd just hit my head or something, if that helps."
“It’s something. Ears ringing?”
They think back to the chamber. “That went away a while ago.”
“Are the lights in here especially bright?”
“Not really, no.” The chamber again, where the light in the ceiling momentarily blinded them, but only momentarily, and she’s talking about the ones in the room.
“Have you thrown up at all?”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
That would be the last thing they need. “No, ma’am.” They don’t know why ‘ma’am’ keeps coming out when they don’t especially feel like being polite, but it’s nearly automatic.
“Headache?”
"Like a tight band around my head."
Dr. Pareira doesn’t look at all reassured. She orients herself back to the counter and continues writing on the paper. “Just so you know, Captain,” she says, “I’m taking notes for your benefit, and the benefit of whoever you’ll be giving them to. They’re not for me to keep here.”
Karim nods. “Of course. I figured it was something like that.”
"As for you, Sira, you could have a mild concussion. Some of what you are experiencing indicates it, but it's hard to say for sure."
Sira slumps a little. A mild concussion sounds simple. Something easy to resolve.
"However," the doctor continues, "I think it would be highly unusual for a mild concussion to produce this degree of memory loss. Usually, it pertains to the event that caused it, or forgetting a few details about one's personal life. It wouldn't be your entire identity."
Oh.
“I’m no neurologist, but even a severe concussion doing something like this is unheard of to my knowledge.” She clicks her pen closed, then sits back down in her chair with a sigh. “It would be best to get looked at by someone who’s more of an expert in that area, but there’s only two things I can think of as an explanation. The first would be that you’re lying--”
Sira opens their mouth to protest, but the doctor holds up her hand to stop them.
“--but I don’t think that you are, because then I doubt the captain would bring you in here and ask me to examine you under the table. The reasons for that aren’t my business, obviously, but I would hope that someone in his station wouldn’t have such poor judgment.”
“I’m flattered, doc,” Karim comments, with slightly exaggerated intonation.
Dr. Pareira waves him off, then continues, “The second, which I believe is also exceedingly rare, would be that it’s psychogenic. Something like a fugue state.”
Sira tilts their head. Focusing on the conversation has allowed their body to loosen up and their heart to calm down again. “I don’t know what any of that means.”
Dr. Pareira taps her temple with her finger. “Mental rather than physical.”
“And what does that mean for me?”
Things are quiet for a moment. Across the room, there’s a crack in Karim’s expression where he not only looks serious again, but...troubled.
"If it is what's going on here, which I can't definitively say for myself, it should mean that it's reversible," the doctor says gently, "and it also means that you're going to need to talk to someone else about it to get it resolved. There might be a few recorded cases in the CPC, and with any luck, that means there's someone who knows much more about it than I do."
Sira’s fingers tightly grip the end of the table they sit on. So far, none of this feels helpful.
“We’ll likely be going to HQ soon, so I’ll be sure to mull it over with the medical team there. Say, Sira--” Karim’s half-grin comes back as he stands up off the door, “--I think I’m going to go ahead and grab you a snack, plus a spare change of clothes. That way I can give the two of you some privacy while she does her thing. Does that sound good?”
The prospect of getting to put something in their stomach and freeing themself from their rags is too enticing for them to disagree. Sira nods - vigorously.
He lifts his hand to his forehead in a quick, two-fingered salute, then exits the room, leaving Sira alone with the doctor. It’s only then that they realize that his air of confidence was providing them with a semblance of stability. Not much, but some.
Dr. Pareira stares at them, silent and pensive. Neither of them move or say anything for a long, discomforting minute. The silence also allows for some of their bodily awareness to extend past just their throat and heart rate, something that seems to slip away from them so easily. With it, awareness of the pain and weakness returns. Everything feels like it's being held together by loose string; one small tug, and it will all collapse.
Unable to resist it any longer, Sira carefully lowers themself back against the table. Unlike the chair in the lobby, it’s cushioned. It’s impossible for them to repress a sigh of relief as they rest their back and head against it, no longer having to support themselves on their own. Their legs hanging over the edge of the table doesn’t feel great, but curling up right now seems like too much effort, and also feels like it would be weird.
"When was the last time you ate or slept?" The doctor asks.
“Ate, I don’t know, but think I was asleep before I, er, ‘woke up.’”
Their voice comes out low and raspy. They are so, so, so tired. Tired enough to melt right into the table if that was possible.
"Hm. While I can't say for certain that you have a concussion, you look like you need the rest either way." Sira can't see her now, but she hears the wheels of the chair rolling on the floor, and the creaking of drawers and cabinets being opened. "Although taking it easy doesn't look like it will be much of an option for you if the director is going to be involved."
Sira doesn’t know what to say to that. The way these people talk, it’s like they want me to be on edge about everything.
“Until the captain tells me what it is he wants that’s special, I’m just going to do a rudimentary physical - as much as you’re comfortable with, that is. I normally wouldn’t do something like that because it feels like neglecting my job, but I noticed you got tense when I was close to you earlier, and pushing things while you’re in this state would leave a bad taste in my mouth. I’ll let someone else handle it when you feel more prepared.”
Having things pushed isn’t much of a choice for me right now.
“Afterwards, I’m going to want to run some blood work, but I think I’ll wait for that until the captain gets back so that you have someone here to support you. Would it help if I explain what I’m doing as I go?”
“Not sure...but it can’t hurt to try.”
Sira shifts their head to the side, putting the doctor into view again. She’s spread more papers across the counter and her hair hides her face as she scribbles down more with her pen. Her free hand clutches something that looks like thin rubber tubing with other bits attached to it.
Again, the word for it pops into Sira’s head after a few seconds: stethoscope.
Dr. Pareira stops writing and looks at Sira again. “I’m sorry to ask, but are you male, female, or...?”
Sira looks at her blankly.
No one has assumed one way or the other so far, which strangely feels...right, but being asked so blatantly about it makes them a little more self-conscious about their appearance than they already were.
Plus, for some reason, the idea of distinctly focusing on what might be going on down there, without having to look, makes them feel sick.
"I, uh, haven't checked," they answer.
“That’s alright. We’ll work with what we have.”
Sira watches as she settles the stethoscope around her neck and changes out her gloves for a fresh pair. When she turns back to them, she has a smile on her face. It’s small, but warm. It eases their anxiety - just a little.
She’s just doing her job, Sira reminds themself. It’s not going to hurt me.
“Let’s get started.”
The entire first arc (chapters 1-13 & bonus) is all on Patreon, in addition to some of the chapters from the Part II - Initiation. These will get removed from Patreon as they're posted publicly, but subscribing means having early access!
